


Night Terrors

by LegionofShadowhunters



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Flashbacks, Night Terrors, blood mention, clace, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegionofShadowhunters/pseuds/LegionofShadowhunters
Summary: Jace has a nightmare, but Clary is there to comfort him.





	

Only so much light could leak into the closet from the small crack between the floor and the bottom of the door. There was just enough that Jace could see the toes of his shoes. He tried his best to shove the fear building in his stomach down to a manageable level. He needed to be in control. His father ordered him to be quiet, and that was what he was going to do. Now was not the time to disappoint his father.

He heard the sound of thundering footsteps and male voices. “You don’t need to do this,” His father’s voice pleaded, “I don’t know anything. I haven’t told them anything. Please. Just leave.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” Another man answered. It wasn’t a voice that Jace recognized. His father never had visitors. The only other man that ever entered their home was Jace’s tutor and that definitely wasn’t his voice. The fear in Jace’s stomach started to rise against his wishes. “And don’t think we aren’t going to find that little brat of yours and off him too. Your whole lineage deserves to be offed for your betrayal to The Circle and its cause.”

The sounds of a fight broke out not far from the door Jace hid behind. Jace could hear the distinct sounds of hand to hand combat: the sound of fists hitting bone, feet shuffling as those involved grappled for the upper hand, the grunts that came with being hit in the gut, a sudden thud as a body hit a wall and the sound of picture frames falling to the floor and breaking. 

The sound got louder as the fight grew closer to the closet. The anxiety and fear became more prominent the closer they got. Jace’s chest felt tight. This wasn’t anything like the training exercises his father made him do. This was real. There was an attack. He put his hands over his mouth to make sure he didn’t do something stupid and childish like call out for his father.

The door rattled and a loud bang echoed through the closest as a body was thrown against the door. Jace jumped back in surprise. He stopped himself before he fell into a stack of boxes behind him and muffled the sound of his yelp with his hands. Things were quiet for a moment expect for the sound of his father begging for his life. 

He had never heard his father sound weak before. 

He didn’t think his father could be weak.

The door rattled once again, less severely this time. The sound of something sliding across the wood seemed to echo and amplify in the small closet. At last there was a soft thump. Jace replayed that thump in his head over and over again. 

He knew what the sound was. Half of the light at the bottom door was blocked by his father’s body. The fear in his stomach churned until he thought he would throw up. He slowly lowered his hands from his mouth. He wasn’t in any danger of making a sound now. Calling out for his father would be useless, even he knew that.

Jace swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at the crack below the door. Red was starting to leak in with the light. A slow but persistent flood of red moved closer to him. His vision flicked to black for a moment and when it came back the blood had advanced far enough to touch the tip of his shoes. He didn’t move away. He couldn’t move away.

His vision flickered again, this time he was standing directly in a pool of blood. Why couldn’t he move?

“Jace,” The clear sound of his name made everything go dark. Panic and fear still tightened his chest. If he opened his eyes he’d see all the blood he was sure of it. 

When he opened his eyes all he could see were the shadows running across the ceiling of his room. Someone’s hand was resting on his shoulder. “Jace, are you okay?” He turned his head to look at Clary’s silhouette. “Jace, you need to breathe,” She sounded almost frantic. Her hand moved from his arm to rest lightly on his chest. He was hyperventilating, and he hadn’t even realized he was breathing at all. 

Jace took the hand Clary had placed on his chest in his own and held it tight. Clary helped him sit up. He figured it would help him breathe easier. He took as deep of a breath as he could manage and let it out as slowly as he could manage. He repeated the effort while Clary used her other hand to rub his back until his breathing was close enough to normal. 

“Jace, what happened?” Clary’s voice was soft and comforting, but it was still dark and that wasn’t helping anything.

“Light,” Jace choked out. His voice was hoarse with sleep and stress. “Please.”

Clary let go of his hand so she could turn on the lamp by her side of the bed. The light burned his eyes, but even that was preferable to the dark. “Are you okay? I thought you were trying to wake me up. You were talking and moving around a lot.”

Jace looked around his room. Everything was as he left it. A small stack of books on the nightstand. His jacket draped across a chair on the other side of the room. Training set up in the corner. Everything was the same. “What--what was I saying exactly?” Jace rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. 

Clary moved to rub his back again, and rested her chin on his shoulder. She hesitated before she said anything. “You kept muttering about the blood,” She whispered. “You kept saying there was so much blood.”

Images of small dark shoes standing in pools of dark red flickered back into his head. The memory felt so recent, but it was old. He had been ten years old when that moment happened for real. He lowered his head into his hands like he was trying to hold it all inside his mind. 

He stood motionless in his own father’s blood for hours until someone had found them. He still didn’t know for sure how long he had been standing in that closest. He couldn’t remember anything, he had been told it was shock or something like that, and no one ever told him. He hadn’t been able to move, not when he knew his father’s body was slumped against the outside of the door. It didn’t matter. There was no way he would have been able to open the door with the weight of a fully grown man keeping it closed. 

Jace spent ten years repressing that memory and it was all back. Every last second felt like it had just happened all over again. There was so much blood. That was all he could think about. 

“Jace,” Clary raised her voice almost to normal volume, “You need to talk to me. You’re scaring me. Were you on the ship again? Is that what it was?”

It would have made sense to be having flashbacks to his time on Valentine’s. That was recent and something he was still working on getting over when he was awake. That’s what should be making him freak out. 

But no. It was the helpless feeling he got in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t felt since he was ten years old that got to him. His father was dying, and he couldn’t fix it. There was blood on his shoes, and he couldn’t step out of it. He was stuck.

Jace stared down at the blankets on the bed and started shaking his head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand,” He mumbled, “I don’t know why it came back. I tried to forget.” Everything he said came out as a question Clary couldn’t answer. He knew she didn’t have the answers he was looking for.

Clary wrapped both of her arms around him and pulled him against her chest. Jace let his head rest in the crook of her neck. “It wasn’t real,” She assured him. Jace couldn’t help the humorless laugh that left his lips. She had no idea, but he wished she was right. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory. “You’re here with me. You’re safe, okay? You are home, and you are safe.”

Jace reached around her to wrap his arms around her waist. He needed to touch her. He’d do anything just to make sure she was actually there. 

Clary brought one of her hands up and let her fingers brush lightly against the back of his neck. The gentle touch sent shivers down his spine. More importantly, it helped him concentrate. 

Clary was here. She was in his bed with him. They were in his room at the institute. If he got up and looked out the window he’d see New York not Idris. He would see closely packed modern buildings reaching for the sky, not the sprawling stone city of Alicante off in the distance. 

The more he focused on where he was now kept his mind from drifting back to the nightmare. It was a lot easier with Clary’s fingertips sneaking up into his hair and the steady sound of her breathing. 

Jace took a deep breath and bowed his head, so the tip of his nose brushed against her color bone. “Can we just lay back down for a while?” He murmured. Clary pulled away and the two of them pulled the covers back up around themselves. 

Jace laid on his back, but Clary stayed propped up on her elbows. “Light on?”

“Please.” He looked over at Clary as she laid down next to him. She laid down on her side and tucked one of her hands under her head. She reached out and placed her hand on the side of his face. 

One of the many things that he loved about Clary was she knew when to push him and when to let him be. This was not something he wanted to talk about, and Clary knew it without him having to say anything. Her thumb traced his cheekbone. Jace twisted his face so he could kiss her palm. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” He muttered. “I know you’re planning on training in the morning.”

Clary shifted closer until her head was on the very edge of her pillow. She took her hand back and tucked it under her head with the other. “It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping that well anyway. Your bed is wrong.”

Jace rolled onto his side so he could face her better. Their faces were only inches apart. “My bed is wrong?” He was worried that she hadn’t actually wanted to stay the night and that he had guilt tripped her into it. Of all the reasons he thought for her to want to leave that hadn’t made the list. 

“My bed’s against that wall,” She pointed at the wall he had his back turned to, “It’s throwing me off.”

He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You were having trouble sleeping because my bed is against the wrong wall,” He repeated. Jace looped his arm around Clary’s waist and pulled her against his chest. “I guess next time we’ll just have to sleep in your room.”

 

Clary sighed and pressed their foreheads together, “I think I like the sound of that. Mostly because you make a great space heater.” 

The two of them laid in silence for a long moment. Clary shut her eyes, and Jace was almost positive she had fallen asleep. He shifted slightly so he could tuck her under his chin. Clary made a happy content noise as she cuddled closer to his chest. 

With the bedside light casting a warm glow over the room and Clary’s skin against his, sleep didn’t seem dangerous anymore. If he fell asleep right now with his face buried in Clary’s soft hair, he would wake up in the same position. It was enough to remind him that for right now, he was safe.


End file.
